Chapter 6 - The Final ReckoningGrant was hauled out of the library by Roman’s enforcers before he could draw another breath, tossed into the back of an unmarked van, and driven out to an abandoned shipping warehouse near the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
I insisted on going along.
Roman tried to talk me out of it in the car, his hand resting gently over mine on the center console. “You don't need to see this, Evelyn. Leave him to me.”
“No,” I said, looking out the rain-streaked window at the neon lights of the highway. “I spent ten years watching him hide behind closed doors. I want to watch him face the light.”
The warehouse was cavernous, damp, and lit by a single flickering overhead bulb. Grant was tied securely to a heavy metal chair in the center of the concrete floor, his face bruised from where one of the guards had roughed him up during the transport.
When Roman and I walked in, Grant looked up, his eyes wide with animalistic panic.
“Evelyn! Please!” he sobbed, struggling against the heavy zip-ties biting into his wrists. “I’m your brother! You can’t let him do this to me! He’s a monster!”
Roman stopped a few feet away from him, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
“You called my wife soft,” Roman said quietly, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “You thought because she survived your abuse in silence, she was weak. You didn't realize that surviving a monster doesn't make you fragile, Grant. It makes you bulletproof.”
Roman turned his head toward me, offering me a small, quiet nod.
I stepped forward into the circle of light. I looked down at the man who had terrorized my childhood, broken my bones, and traded my life as if I were nothing more than a discarded piece of trash.
“You’re bankrupt, Grant,” I said, my voice clear and steady in the cavernous room. “Your assets are frozen, your corporate titles are gone, and by tomorrow morning, the federal prosecutor will have the complete medical and financial records detailing every crime you committed against me and our father’s estate.”
“You can’t do that!” Grant screamed, straining against the chair. “Father left everything to me!”
“Father left everything to a sinking ship,” I replied coldly.
Roman stepped closer to Grant, leaning down until his face was inches from my brother’s terrified eyes.
“The federal prison in upstate New York has very strict rules about white-collar criminals who prey on their own families,” Roman whispered. “And I’ve already spoken to the warden. You’ll be placed in general population, Grant. I hear the inmates take special interest in men who beat women.”
Grant let out a choked, desperate cry, tears streaming down his face as the absolute horror of his future finally settled over him.
Roman stood back up, took my hand, and turned away from him without another word.
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“Let’s go home, Evelyn,” Roman said softly.
As we walked out of the warehouse into the cool night air, the rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a clear, star-studded sky over the New York harbor.
